The Lone Marauder
by rockfish
Summary: What was Remus "unemployed and badly dressed" Lupin doing during Book 4? Well, solving a dangerous mystery in sleepy Hogsmeade, and of course, getting the girl ... Remus/new character. *Ch. 2 added*
1. "Hello, I Love You"

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Author's note:

Right, I'm finally uploading this story ... started writing it last summer when my computer crashed and I lost the original version of "Strangers" ... 

Besides, I wasn't really satisfied with this story, still not entirely ... I guess it's cos it's a Mary Sue of sorts, an invented character. Bueno, I hope you like her and the story - please review and tell me what you think. New chapters will be added whenever possible .... :)

The story is set after "Prisoner of Azkaban", will probably run parallel to "Goblet of Fire". An idea about what could have been happening in Lupin's life at the same time as the events of the TriWizard Tournament, before Ms Rowling brings out the next book and proves me completely wrong ... in other words, something to keep me occupied till the next book!! Wahh, I want it now ....

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Disclaimer: I don't own anything (neither Harry Potter nor the Doors) though I'd love to own Remus Lupin. Actually, I'll add him to my Christmas list of fictional characters I'd love to have a living copy of ... maybe one day technology will be advanced enough for this ... muahaha!! Ahem.

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Rating: PG-13, to be safe. I think. May change.

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THE LONE MARAUDER

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Chapter 1:"Hello, I Love You"

It was a busy day at the Three Broomsticks. The summer was upon Hogsmeade, the heat drawing everyone out of their houses to the great outdoors - that is to say, shopping, hiking, and of course a cool Gillywater at the best-loved pub in town. Rosmerta bustled about with trays, flower vases, smiles (mostly gritted because her new heels were giving her blisters the size of Bludgers). Despite the fact that there were fewer tourists these days - the novelty of being able to leave your house without risking your life, after Voldemort's downfall, had now finally worn off - Rosmerta could still do with some more help at the bar. She made a mental note to send that owl, paused a second, and decided a mental note wasn't going to last five seconds in this bedlam. She reached for her notepad and her quill -

"Could I have a chilled Butterbeer, please?"

"Can't you see I'm busy?" Rosmerta snapped wearily, not looking up.

"Oh - I'm terribly sorry - I'll wait" the familiar voice said hastily, but courteously. Rosmerta glanced up to see the young yet worn face of one of her current guests at the inn. That nice professor from up at the school - or, well, not really a professor anymore, on account of his being a werewolf, as everyone knew by now. News travels fast and furious over mulled mead.

She put down the pad with its scribbled note, and smiled genuinely at him. Since her pub was frequented by all sorts of bizarre two-legged creatures ranging from hags to warlocks - even the occasional muffled banshee - she had no problem with a perfectly reasonable wizard who just happened to sprout four paws once a month. 

"Coming right up, Prof - Mister Lupin."

She poured him a tankard of Butterbeer, and passed it to him. He thanked her, and drank deeply. Rosmerta took the opportunity to lean against the bar for a bit of a rest. He was awfully handsome, after all.

"How's the job-hunting going, then?"

Remus groaned and set his mug down. "Terrible. All the clothes shop assistants I've spoken to shudder just to look at me, and that's before I even mention the lycanthropy." He took another deep swig. Rosmerta tsk-tsked at the injustice of it all. Those shop assistants must be blind. "Not even Zonko's will take me on ... There has to be a vacancy somewhere, or at least, an odd job going begging ... some pesky Dark Creature in need of a vanquishing!"

Something clicked in Rosmerta's tired brain. "Wait a second - my friend - " She scribbled an address on the notepad, and passed it to him, pointing at the name on it with a turquoise fingernail. "Lena Richardson. I think she said she had a ghoul problem in her attic. She, er, works for the Hogsmeade Tourist Board, but I don't think they have any vacancies - the way they're going she'll be joining you at the Job Centre too, soon - but it's an odd-job for you, at any rate. Don't worry about paying the rent for now" she waved a generous hand over his protestations, "use the money to get some smart - preferably tight-cut - robes, and those Gladrags witches will be falling over each other to sign you on forever, believe me." She leaned over, kissed him lightly on the cheek, and then had to rush along to table 7, where the warlocks were toasting each other so hard they were cracking the tankards. Still, it was a nice interlude.

Remus, still blushing, considered the note in his hand. Well, it was something. He downed the remaining Butterbeer, and set off.

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"AAARRGHH!"

Lena let out a heartfelt scream. What a horrible day: all the undemanding, friendly holiday types with the cameras and the silly T-shirts seemed to be dropping away in droves these days. The batch she'd had to guide around Hogsmeade today had been die-hard history types, die-hard hiking types and die-hard geology enthusiasts - die-hard pains in the arse, in other words. She had only taken this job because she'd thought it'd give her a chance to "see the sights" instead of be cooped up behind some desk. She wasn't a history expert, or botany, or hiking or anything, and she was seeing the wretched "sights" in her sleep by now. 

And to top it all, she had come home to a raging din in her house. The ghoul was going ape up there, he'd been playing up for weeks now. Lena really hadn't thought there was anything left in her attic to hurl or break by now, but she was obviously wrong. Maybe he was tearing the roof off.

Lena wanted nothing more than a rest and a cup of tea, but the loud clangs now emanating from above made any hope of peace impossible. Scowling furiously at the ceiling, she strode over to her CD player, pressed a button, and suddenly The Doors blared out through the house. Dancing clumsily all the while (if she wasn't going to get any rest she may as well make the most of the racket), she changed into the baggy shorts and T-shirt combo she liked to wear around her home. She decided that at least, a cup of tea was possible, and so it was through the almighty din of an apoplectic ghoul, a crooning Jim Morrison and a hissing kettle that Lena, miraculously, heard the distinct and always ineffably polite sound of a doorbell.

"Urgh ..."

She ran to and opened the front door without even switching the music off, and stopped short at the sight of a man stood expectantly on the porch, someone she did not know. He was tall, and thin, but with a sort of lean, angular grace to him. He wore scuffed boots, shabby tan robes - he carried a tatty briefcase. And his face ... angular and handsome, under thick, straight greying brown hair somewhat raggedly cut (but that was the style these days), with intense hazel eyes ... his eyes ... his eyes that were blinking at her as his lips moved somewhere beneath them, soundlessly mouthing something that looked suspiciously like her name.

Lena was unable to stop herself staring, but she did manage to adopt a responsible lady-of-the-house voice and say, "Hello?" Unfortunately, at that moment The Doors chimed in loudly behind her -

_Hello, I love you _

Won't you tell me your name?

The stranger, perhaps seeking to salvage the situation, chose that moment to stick out his hand and say politely, "Remus Lupin. I came to inquire -"

_Hello, I love you_

Let me jump in your game!

Lena stared wildly from his proffered hand, to her deceptively innocent-looking stereo, back to his hand, now drooping slightly with bemusement, and then to the stereo again. "Er, hold on a sec, will you ..."

_Hello, I love you_

Won't you -

"Won't you come in, Mr, er, Lupin? Sorry about the racket," she glared at the now-silenced Sony, "What brings you here, then?" The ghoul, which had kept quiet for almost thirty seconds flat, as if listening to their little interlude, decided to make its presence felt again. It let out a heartfelt wail, and produced an equally heartfelt _clang! _to accompany it. Lena's expectant smile became somewhat rigid.

"Well, I -"

"Cup of tea?" she asked brightly, remembering the kettle. Remus's look of bewilderment was beginning to look more like fright. 

"Er, yes, that would be -"

"Sugar? Milk?" Lena now bustled off to the adjoining kitchen, hoping to give herself some air of efficiency, and kicking her colourful work clothes surreptitiously out of sight as she went. 

"Milk, no sugar, er," The note of panic had reached his voice, but there were no more interruptions for a while, as she stirred the tea. He took the opportunity to look her and her house over; their meeting at the door had been too chaotic for him to take in anything at all.

She was relatively tall, too, with dark brown hair and brown eyes. Her figure was long and strong, angular, though at the moment she was hurrying about the place in a way more reminiscent of an anxious terrier. Her nervousness obviously hadn't impeded her friendliness - she had invited him in as if she hadn't had a visitor in moons - er, months.

"Right, here you go," Lena smiled, and awkwardly offered him his cup. She took her own, but did not drink yet, choosing instead to ask him, "What was it you said you were here for?" 

"Er, I'm looking for a job, I used to teach at Hogwarts, but well, now, obviously I don't, and I'm staying at Madam Rosmerta's - I mean, the Three Broomsticks - she referred me to your ghoul." That didn't come out quite as he'd anticipated, it seemed, from the blank look on her face. "I taught Defence Against The Dark Arts. I could get rid of your ghoul problem for you." There, that must have worked; she was smiling now.

"Really? That'd be great! When can you get started - er, can I see your qualifications please?" It must have worked pretty well, she barely scanned the paper he had drawn out of his briefcase, and that mentioned the lycanthropy and all, albeit in very small letters. Remus beamed. His people skills must be improving. 

"It might take a while, right?"

"Yes, sometimes a sensitive ghoul needs coaxing ... some advocate more brutal methods of exorcism, but they're usually harmless so no point in cruelty. Do you want it removed, or should I try to get it to calm down? That could take longer, and I would have to spend a lot of time here with it."

"Calming-down sounds good to me. I've got plenty of space," she gestured around the cluttered but comfy-looking house, "you can hang around as much as you like". Blushed. _Damn, damn, focus on ghoul._ "I've grown attached to that ghoul, anyway." Lena smiled in an affectionate manner, but the moment was somewhat spoilt by the unearthly, foundation-shuddering wail the ghoul promptly emitted. "Though he's not exactly Jim Morrison, is he ..."

"Jim who?"

"Morrison. Muggle singer. Joke, Mr Lupin."

"Remus." He grinned. Lena grinned. They both grinned stupidly until, suddenly, "Hello I Love You" sounded out again through the house, although this time, the ghoul was doing the honours.

"Well, at least _he_ got the joke."

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	2. Lemon

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Author's Note:

OK, this is the next chapter, sort of. I'm updating fairly fast at the moment, but it probably won't last because final exams loom menacingly on the horizon. Thank you Rugi Gwena, Wite-Out Mini Pocket Mouse (cool name!), Madelaine and Once in a blue moon for reviewing! :)

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Disclaimer:I own nothing but my CDs, and if you take those I will, er, do something very bad indeed! *tries to think of something suitably evil* 

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Rating: PG-13 still, I suppose.

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Chapter 2:Lemon 

Remus stretched out on the mattress, exhausted but fairly happy. It was good to have some purpose in life again, even if it was to get on good terms with a Doors-loving ghoul. And its Doors-loving flatmate.

He looked around the attic room he had been given - he'd been hanging about the place so much that there was really no point in staying at the pub, and Lena had welcomed him in. He hadn't put up much of a resistance, drawn to the wordless comfort of a real home, even it it wasn't his. He loved his room, too: it had faded blue walls, checked blue and yellow curtains; wood and wicker furniture adorned with worn patchwork cushions. There were a few film and music posters (the obligatory Jim Morrison pic, of course) on the walls, and the two windows held a nice view of the front and back gardens, the front also offering a vista of Hogsmeade, being that the house was some way up a slope. Perfect for a fearless Dark Arts fighter like himself, he could see anything coming a mile off. The Lone Marauder, as he liked to think of himself. Gave a touch of glamour to being unemployed and badly-dressed. 

More seriously, his new place at Lena's gave him a stable base should he be needed by Dumbledore at any time. Remus had heard about the upcoming TriWizard Tournament; but he was not as excited about it, as confident about it as many others in the know seemed to be. Perhaps because he sensed dark forces were on the move again ... perhaps because he'd been there when they re-emerged right under his very nose. He was especially keeping an eye out for Peter these days. Not to mention that as a werewolf, he feared Voldemort would exercise some sort of power over him, call him to the dark side against his will. When the full moon arrived, he was going to lock himself up here with his supply of Wolfsbane Potion. So far neither he nor Lena had mentioned anything about it, but the full moon was near.

Unbeknownst to Lena, Remus had told both Dumbledore and Sirius about his new location. Now, there was nothing to do but wait for their call, if it should come, and until then, get on with this nice new job. Sometimes he wondered if it were merely the calm before the storm ... 

Rosmerta had wished him a wistful "good luck" when she'd heard he had taken the job at Lena's and was actually staying at her place; and suddenly hadn't seemed so loving towards her friend. Remus figured it was because she still wished Lena would give up her own floundering tour guide job and join her at the Three Broomsticks ...

It was, in all honesty, a strange job for him. And it was strange to share a house with someone. Lena seemed to have gotten used to his presence by now - although he had learnt not to walk up on her silently during her bleary-eyed morning coffee. She was friendly and slightly odd - talkative at times, secretive at others. Despite her eager welcoming of him into her house (that ghoul must have been really wearing her down) Lena did seem to have built quite a nice life in her solitude, with her films and books and rock music and plants; she seemed to be a big fan of Muggle culture, indeed he had barely seen her use her wand. She had said he was welcome to join her, but she seemed happy enough on her own sometimes.

He guessed it was because she had to spend so much of her time making small talk with strangers, she was glad to take down the act at the end of the day. Sometimes Remus felt like he was getting in the way, other times it felt like he was really beginning to be a friend ...

There was a rap on the door. It was still morning and he hadn't even got dressed properly yet (despite himself, he was enjoying this more relaxed form of work); since staying here he had adopted a Muggle form of dressing too, which he was quite proud of. 

"Can I come in?" Lena took his silence for a yes and poked her head around the door. She was getting used to having an extraordinarily handsome, polite and helpful young man in the house every day, but she still had to check her gasp when she saw him in the somewhat ill-advised, small shorts he had chosen for himself. 

"Just wanted to know how Jim is doing ... I have to go to work now, you see."

They had christened the ghoul Jim after that first chaotic meeting, when it transpired that the various names Lena had used to refer to him were too colourful for everyday use. Remus wanted to say that it was going very well, he had progressed from polite chitchat with the ghoul to heartfelt ghoul-to-werewolf talks, and what was more, Jim could now sing the entire set of lyrics to "Hello I Love You", in tune. If Remus could only improve his own guitar-playing a little, they could put on a short concert.

However, what came out was "I thought today was your day off?"

Lena gave a half-smile. "Yep, so did I, but it turns out Gilbert can't make it, he had a bit of a mishap the other day up on the mountain route. He says a fairy was showing off, and accidentally flew into his eye, so he fell over backwards; but it's not like him, he's an extremely cautious bloke. For one, he always wears ski goggles up there. Anyway, he's been packed off to St Mungo's for a Hip Replacement Charm. He sounded a little nervous to me." Gilbert was sixty-four. He had packed in his career as an Auror shortly after Voldemort's downfall, saying that the stress had already given him bowel problems and a twitch in his left eye, and damned if he was going to continue now that red-eyed git was out of action. He was a gruff yet good-natured man - Remus had only met him once so far, but he couldn't imagine him frightened. 

"... so anyway, I've been called in. We have a troupe of witches from Andalucia, who're only here for the day, and they'll get very upset if we cancel on them. The Spanish have some nasty hexes, too."

Remus ran a hand through his tousled hair. "Er ... I'm not much of a tour guide, especially if the Board does moonlit vistas, but I can help if you want ..." Lena's eyes lit up, and a big smile spread over her face. 

"Really?! Oh, that would be great, I don't like doing the mountain route on my own. Odd things have been happening up there recently, Gilbert's only the most recent. There have been weird rumours - I just think it's a couple of pranksters in borrowed robes, but there you go - Great, though, thanks!" She hugged Remus impulsively, knocking the air out of him and flustering him again. Then, without warning, she grabbed him by the hand and dragged him out of the door. 

"Right. Er, we could always drop by the Board and borrow some robes for you, but I have spares, and they might fit. You're not _that _much taller than me, in heels anyway. Me, not you. In the heels, I mean." He smiled feebly.

"Don't laugh, now." She opened the wardrobe - they were standing in her bedroom - and took out two of the most hideous sets of robes he had ever seen, and that included the Chudley Cannons team kit. They were neon, lemon yellow, and some bright spark up at the Board had obviously decided this was still not festive enough, and had emblazoned them with moving pictures of vaguely touristy things. Exotic fish. Pineapples (in Hogsmeade?!), wiggling merrily. Little, flashing cameras. Remus suddenly felt himself in fervent agreement with Rosmerta about the tourist business. Even Lena couldn't control her grimace. 

"Er ... right then. I guess we could try these on over the clothes you're wearing now," she studiously avoided looking at the shorts, and handed him the other set of robes, which seemed larger, and therefore, even uglier. "Just put them on - here, like this." She helped pull the robes over his head - Remus would have preferred to have tried it on his own, he was already getting all sorts of nervous twinges from the thought of wearing the horrible thing in public, and when her hand accidentally scratched his neck he almost yelped out loud.

Finally they were on him. He brushed them down self-consciously and tried to ignore the can-can dancing pineapples. Then, he looked up to see Lena's reaction.

She was deep in contemplation, staring at him seriously. She looked several times from his face to the robes, as if she were carefully and gravely measuring the cut, the fit, the impression he'd give to the tourists. Lastly, her gaze settled on his face, nervous and expectant. Then, without warning, she promptly burst into laughter. Remus frowned. 

"Oh God ... oh heavens ... you should see your face!" She snorted, doubling over further. "You ... lemon ... those sodding pineapples ... you silly old fruit!" she was almost crying with laughter now. Remus felt his expression softening. He grinned, then began to chuckle, then to laugh out loud. Lena wiped her eyes, saw him laughing too, and this set her off again. She carried on till she just had to sit down on the bed, weak from mirth.

"Ah ..." Remus was calming down now a little, and saw her sitting there, still shaking. "All right then, now you!" She squealed - he darted over and tried to grab her up from the bed, but she was kicking, and besides, she _was_ quite tall. He overbalanced and fell on the bed, her still in his arms.

They were both still laughing too hard to think, at first, but it didn't take long for Lena to realise how close they were. Strange emotions flooded into her. His clumsy attempt to lift her up - the fumbling inability to gather her up gracefully, because, frankly, she was no pixie (_where _had his hands slipped?) The sudden warmth around her, dulled then by mirth but now ever so sharp and apparent. It was suddenly overwhelming - the nervous, beautiful face so close to her own was alien, now. He was so close it scared her. And she barely knew him. 

Every odd characteristic of his, every politeness that stood in the way of a revelation - every difference of his to her, and the pitifully short time she'd known him. These worries flitted through her head and tried ineffectually to beat against the warmth that was passing between them. The fact was that a man called Remus Lupin (of all things) was lying beside her on her own bed, that he was a lovely person, that he was looking at her, right now. The implications hit her with the force of a steam train. _Wonderful. You left your hormones in charge, again, now it's going to be my turn to pick up the pieces_, grumbled her brain, and Lena briefly wondered if she was schizophrenic, or just an idiot.

It wasn't the worries that scared her. It was the warmth itself. She would not let it carry her away, this time. Again. 

The truth was that she had let her heart leap ahead of her reason again, that she hadn't waited to know him better, that this could all go so wrong for someone who had nothing else in her life to fall back on. A crush on a stranger was fine, harmless - there had been no point in denying her attraction from the moment he appeared on her doorstep, and no reason to deny their friendship when she got to know him better. But she didn't know him well enough for this, not well enough to tie her heart to him, and Lena was not a girl of half measures. If she fell, she would fall badly; she didn't want to give over her privacy to a man who didn't even know her, because of some foolish crush!

__

And yet ... it was more than physical, and she knew it. She closed her eyes but that thought continued to beat against her consciousness. _Oh dear. You have a crush again_, a tiny, damned annoying little voice inside her mocked. _Yep, definitely losing your mind. _

Their proximity had had its effect on Remus too. Lena's delighted laughter had given way to an expression which was almost serious, and impassive, and yet she was trembling. His insides were squirming more furiously than the pineapples - he was not used to this sort of thing. Intimacy. These terribly serious, nervous little encounters, the things that really made up "romance". It wasn't his forté, and it seemed, neither was it hers. 

But then there was an urgency in him which he had rarely felt before, too. Remus Lupin was not a man of extremes. He was sensible, he was cautious. He'd had to be, with the life he'd led. But he got along with this girl; this strange, lonely, friendly girl. 

Staying in her comfy house, with normality all around him, her Muggle gadgets and her moods and her job which she hated ... It was a peek into someone else's world, and he liked that world, and he liked that someone. He couldn't remember the last time he'd felt so peaceful with someone. It was like coming home. 

And that need - no, that emotion, was as true as any other rational thought he had. It wasn't anything she had done - she hadn't danced gracefully in the rain, or appeared at the top of the stairs resplendent in a beautiful dress, or written a poem from the depths of her heart. Lena. For the first time in years, Remus was ready to take a risk with his heart.

__

He leaned closer to her ...

Without warning, she grinned nervously, tripping the moment up. The excitement had gotten the better of her, with the inherent silliness that most encounters of this sort have. She unexpectedly hugged him, then, almost as an apology, still smiling, almost wistful. Remus swallowed his confusion, a little hurt, a little hesitant to let it go so easily, and yet a part of him was amused that of all things to keep them apart, it had been her own caution and nervousness. Perhaps they were more alike than seemed apparent; the courteous, academic, workaholic werewolf and the young, temperamental girl who hated her job.

Lena bit her lip, obviously wondering what to do next. It was there, hovering in the air between them, it would carry on being there, how to deal with it? 

Remus knew. He got up, gently.

"I'll leave you to get changed."

Lena shifted into a sitting position as he got up from the bed. She tucked her hair behind her ears and gave a little wave as he left the room; looked down at the sheets still creased with his warmth. _We'll see..._

As for Remus: despite her reticence, his heart leaped funnily in his chest, in a way he hadn't known for ages, as he left, to wander through the other beautiful rooms of that house, her house ... their house ... while she got ready. 

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